Past Tense
by mysterymuse
Summary: In the aftermath of an earthquake during an elevator ride, Castle and Beckett suddenly find themselves in the year 1977. Post-Season 2 AU.
1. Chapter 1

"The realtor's late, Lanie," Beckett says into her cell as she takes another glance at her watch, "And my lunch break ends soon."

"We don't have any open cases," the M.E. says.

"Paperwork doesn't fill itself out," Beckett replies dryly.

"I think Montgomery will let it slide. Your apartment blew up."

"Yeah, three months ago."

"And the sublet you have now looks like a crack den."

Beckett sighs.

"Okay, I'll wait another ten minutes."

"Good, oh, and sweetie?"

"Hmm?"

"A certain writer came by today."

Her pulse starts to race.

"What?"

He walked away with his ex-wife hanging off his shoulder and she tucked her feelings into a tightly-sealed box. She had a date with a doctor later. She was moving on.

"I know he hasn't called since he, um...left. But he was looking for you," Lanie hedges.

"Did you tell him I don't want to talk to him?"

"I think the boys kicked him out."

"You think?" Beckett asks and watches a town car pull up to the curb.

"I wasn't there!" Lanie protests.

"Look, I have to go. The realtor's here," she says, hanging up and brushing off some lint on her khaki blazer. She's fixing her blouse when a car door slams and a voice calls out.

"Hey."

Beckett looks up at the voice, her whole body stilling.

"Castle?" she asks. "What are you doing here?" Her heart ricochets in her chest.

He rubs one hand on his neck, the other tucking into his pocket as he rolls back on his heels. "I, uh, stopped by the precinct and they said you were here. How's your summer been? You look good."

Her palms start gathering with sweat. She hates him.

"What did you bribe them with?" she asks.

"Bribe—oh, the boys? No, they made me get down on my knees and grovel. Do you know what that's about?"

"Maybe because you haven't called them in a month," she suggests.

"I didn't realize they missed me so much," he says with a lopsided grin, a knowing twinkle in his eyes.

She crosses her arms, her mouth setting in a thin line.

"Why are you here?"

"I have writer's block and a deadline coming up. I thought I could see if you picked up a case. Maybe get the juices flowing."

"Don't you have Gina to help you with that?"

"How's that cop boyfriend of yours? Demming?" he counters.

She narrows her eyes at him.

"I'm heading back to the precinct," she says, "I have paperwork."

"Kate, wait," he says, stepping towards her and lightly touching her elbow. "I'm sorry. I should've called."

She pulls her elbow in and looks at him.

"Castle, go home. Go back to your Hamptons, your ex-wife, and your book parties, okay?"

"Did I do something?"

Beckett bites the inside of her cheek and looks away, her eyes squinting. Willing the lid on her box to stay shut.

"Look, I really have to get back before my break is over."

Castle nods, taking a step away from her.

"The boys said you were still looking for a new place. I didn't realize you hadn't found anything yet. Was this place promising?"

"The realtor never showed," she says on a sigh.

"Did they leave a key?"

"No, but they gave me the building code."

"And you haven't checked out the lobby yet?" he asks.

"I'm not really supposed to go inside without them," she hedges.

"Since when have we let rules stop us?"

"We?" she scoffs.

"C'mon. You came all the way up here to Harlem. You should check it out. And I won't tell if you don't," he says. He gives her one his hopeful, puppy-dog looks, the kind that she always fell for. And it scares her how much she wants to say yes and how easily he's already burrowed under her skin again.

"Just a peek?" she says finally, her heart winning out the battle against her head.

"Just a peek," he assures her as he tries to tamp down a smile.

"Fine."

He follows her up the small set of stairs up to the modest brownstone building and crowds her back as she punches in the code. Her stomach flutters at the proximity. She quickly pushes the door open when it buzzes.

The first-floor landing is open and breezy. But a closer look reveals paint peeling from the walls and a cracked crown molding. Clear tarps hang on the hall archway and cover the lobby floor.

"Hello? Anybody home?" Castle yells into the silence.

"Castle, be quiet!" she hisses.

"I'm pretty sure no one's here," he says, pulling back the tarp from the hall entrance. Castle turns the knob on one of the apartment doors. It scrapes noisily against the door jamb, but when he pushes it in a little, the door opens easily.

"Get out of there!" she whisper-shouts at him.

"Bit of a fixer-upper, isn't it?" he says as he shows her the palm of his hand, now full of dust.

"That's not a good sign, is it?" She walks under the tarp into the hall.

"How much are they asking?" he asks.

"Something in my price range," she says.

"Isn't this place kind of far from the precinct?" he asks, craning his neck towards the ceiling.

"I have a showing in Tribeca tomorrow, but this one's a Renaissance Revival. I really like the bones on this one," she says, running her fingers against the wall. "You know, I grew up in a Queen Anne brownstone. It had these really iconic English baroque stylings with grotesque sculptures on the facade. And—" she stops, blushing when she finds him staring at her.

"What?" she asks.

"Nothing," he says, "I just didn't know you loved architecture so much."

"My mom always pointed stuff like that out to me. She did her undergrad in it."

She walks down the hall, inspecting the grimy tile and other empty apartments. She stops in front of a vintage elevator cab, a rusty, cage-like thing. Castle catches up with her and gasps, reaching his hand out towards the zig-zag iron door.

"I've always wanted one of these. It's so old-timey," he says.

"Old-timey?" She snorts.

"We have to ride it," he says, stepping past her as he pulls the elevator door open.

"I'm not getting in there," she replies, eyeing the cab skeptically.

"Beckett," he whines, "You're no fun!"

She knows he's only teasing, but the statement grates against her, hitting a raw nerve and cracking open the lid of her box.

"Is that why you took your ex-wife to the Hamptons instead?" she asks, stepping into the elevator, the words flying out her mouth before she can think them through.

The playful pout drops from his lips.

"What?"

"Forget it."

"I didn't know taking you was an option. What about Demming?"

She doesn't say anything, moving to the opposite corner of the elevator, but the look on her face is answer enough.

"You broke up?" he asks, surprise flicking across his features.

The iron grate door suddenly springs shut and they both jump a little. The cab starts moving.

"Did you press something?" she asks. He shakes his head, his brow creasing in worry. The cab starts to vibrate and Beckett leans back, her hands curling around an iron bar for support. A loud rumble runs through the building and lights start to flicker. Adrenaline spikes through her veins.

"What's happening?" she shouts as the iron bars of the elevator clatter loudly. Castle opens his mouth, but the cab tilts and Beckett falls to the other side of the elevator, knocking into him before he can fathom a response. He grabs for her and wraps her tightly in his arms, the whole building tremoring around them. She clutches to him, ducking her head into his chest and shutting her eyes, willing it to end.

Then, as soon as it starts, everything stops shaking and the lights stop flashing. It's dead quiet. As if nothing had happened in the first place.

"What the hell was that?" she asks, trembling slightly.

"I think it was an earthquake," Castle says. He's far too close and it makes her heart skip a beat. She quickly pushes herself off him, brushing at her blazer, purposefully avoiding eye contact.

"In New York?"

"Or a pipeline burst," he says, "Are you okay? You're not hurt, are you?"

"No, I'm fine," she says, stiffly, their fight rushing back to her.

"Kate—"

"Don't 'Kate' me." She jerks the elevator door open and stalks out. It takes her a moment to realize they've inexplicably reached the second floor.

"So we're not gonna talk about it?" he asks.

She heads for the stairs, walking quickly, not looking back.

"What is there to talk about?" she throws over her shoulder.

She hears a huff from behind her as she descends the steps, almost running down them. When she reaches the first-floor landing, she stops in her tracks.

"Castle?" she calls out. He turns the corner, catching up with her.

"What now?" he asks.

She runs a finger on the banister and it comes away dust-free.

"Does it look nicer in here to you?" she asks, scanning the freshly-painted walls. All of the tarp is gone and the crown molding is intact. Everything is brand-new...no signs of earthquake damage or unfinished repairs.

Castle perks up, his face scrunching in confusion as he catalogs the gleaming space.

"Do you hear that?" he asks.

Beckett cocks out her ear and frowns at the faint sound of ringing phones and murmuring voices.

"Are there people here?"

Castle follows the noise to a frosted glass door at the end of the hall. "Truman, Taylor, and Associates," he reads. "Was this here before? I could've sworn all these rooms were empty."

A cold feeling passes through Beckett. She pushes past him, her fingers trembling as she brushes them against the name on the frosted glass.

"Beckett?"

Ignoring him, she turns the handle and eases the door open. Inside is an office bullpen with about twenty people working at desks, busy typing and passing papers to colleagues. But instead of computers, electric typewriters line each surface.

Chills run down Beckett's back when she takes another look at everyone. Big, wire-frame glasses sit on the noses of a few workers. Women walk around in feathered hair and retro power suits while men roam around in outdated checkered blazers over mustard yellow turtlenecks.

"Are they filming a _Mary Tyler Moore_ reboot in here?" Castle asks out of the side of his mouth. "And what's with the bad haircuts?" He observes, pointedly gazing at a man with a shaggy mop of hair and fuzzy sideburns. Beckett doesn't respond, her eyes scanning the area as if looking for something or someone.

A woman reading from a folder walks by them. Her dark, chestnut hair is cut short in a wedge bob. Castle coughs to grab her attention. She looks up at them, eyes blinking. Beckett lets out a quiet gasp.

"I'm sorry," the woman says, "Can I help you with something?"

Castle opens his mouth, but Beckett interjects, asking, "Do you happen to know today's date?"

"June 25th."

Castle eyeballs her curiously.

"What year?" Beckett presses.

The woman gives her an odd look, but supplies, "1977."

Castle balks, his whole posture shifting."I don't think I heard that right, did you say—"

"1977," the woman repeats slowly, her brow quirking.

"That's what I thought you said," he says weakly.

The woman bristles, squaring her shoulders. "Are you here for legal services?"

Castle glances at Beckett, but her eyes are hungrily fixed on the woman. "What do you, um, offer?" he asks.

"We're a small firm but we take on—"

"Civil suits and criminal cases," Beckett finishes.

"That's right. We also provide general counseling," the woman says, question in her gaze. "Are you here for a meeting?"

"No, uh, just shopping around," Beckett says.

The woman gives Beckett a piercing stare.

"You look really familiar, have we met before?"

"I don't think so," Beckett replies quickly.

"Right," the woman says, giving her another once-over, not quite believing her answer. "Well, if you need anything else, our secretary can take down your names." She nods at them curtly and walks away, already burying herself back in her folder.

"Was it just me or did she just say we're in 1977?" Castle asks, taking a second look around the office before Beckett yanks him back into the hall, the door shutting behind them.

"Ow, what the hell, Beckett?" Castle says, rubbing his arm and frowning, but she doesn't notice. She's buzzed, running her hands through her hair. "What's gotten into you?" he asks, watching her pace back and forth. "How did you know to ask about the date, anyway?"

She takes a breath and slows her step. "I remember the name of the law firm from my mother's files. My parents worked for them, but they disbanded years ago. Castle…"

She turns to him, her eyes shining.

"That woman was my mom."


	2. Chapter 2

"That was—"

"My mom. I recognize her from picture albums...but I don't understand," she says, her hands clutching her chest, "How is this happening?" Her breath starts coming in short gasps. "There's a weight, I can't—"

"Beckett, are you…"

Her eyes bug out. "Can't. Breathe," she manages.

"Okay, it's fine. You're just having a panic attack. You, um, need to concentrate and breath."

She tries to inhale but her throat feels like it's closing up.

"Look, maybe this is a dream. And you just imagined your mom," Castle throws out.

She shakes her head.

"You're right, if this were a dream, you'd definitely be naked."

She chokes and smacks a balled fist against his shoulder.

"Right, got it, not helping."

He snaps his fingers together a moment later. "Have you ever heard of that phrase, the...shoot, what is it?" He gestures at the air helplessly, "You know, the French one?"

Beckett's face pales, her color draining as she struggles to breathe.

"Folie à deux!" He shouts out. She fastens her gaze with his, concentrating. "It's the madness of two, uh, a psychiatric syndrome that one person can pass onto another. What if we're hallucinating the same thing?"

She nods, inhaling deeply, motioning at him as if to say 'keep going.'

He starts smoothing a hand on her back in calming circles. "Or you know, Einstein posited time speeds up or slows down based on relativity. And since time is relative, he theorized gravity could bend time."

Beckett's breaths slow as she focuses on his words.

"What if we stepped into a wormhole where time sped up and slowed down all in one instant, bending gravity until we ended up here?"

She lets out one last deep exhale, her breath evening out. His hand stays at the small of her back.

"Thanks, Castle." She clears her throat. "I haven't had one of those in a while."

"Are you sure you're okay?"

She nods, shaking him off and walking down the hall.

"So you think this elevator was part of our gravity-bending wormhole?" she asks, looking up the shaft.

"Your guess is as good as mine," he says.

She presses the call button and the cab slowly rattles down to the first floor.

"We can't stay here," she says.

He hesitates. "Don't you want to explore? Or, I don't know, talk to your mom and—" he stops suddenly and shifts his feet nervously.

"And what? Tell her about her murder?" she asks, crossing her arms.

He looks down. "I'm sorry. I didn't mean..."

Beckett sighs, dropping her arms to her side. "Of course I want to talk to her. But I can't. It's not right."

"When are you ever going to get this chance again?"

"You don't think I want to run back in there and hold onto her and never let go? This is bigger than us or my mom. Saving her could mean messing up everything else."

Castle deflates and rubs his face.

"I hate it when you use logic against me."

She gives him a small smile. "I think we've both seen enough sci-fi movies to know that being here can cause a rip in the space-time continuum or trigger the Butterfly Effect."

"The longer we stay here, the more things are going to change in the future," he says with a sigh.

"Now, will you get in here, so we can go—"

"—Back to the future! Ha, I said it first," he says, stepping in beside her with a boyish grin. She rolls her eyes.

She closes the spring door and presses the up button. They wait a moment but nothing happens. She presses it again, this time more forcefully. It doesn't move.

"What's wrong with it?" she asks, pushing it again.

"You know they say it works faster when you keep pressing it," he says.

"Castle," she fumes, her teeth clenching.

"Maybe there's something we have to do before we go back," he suggests.

"Even if that's true, why this year?" she asks.

"Let's see. SNL just started airing a couple of years ago. There was the bicentennial and Jimmy Carter won the presidency last year. Studio 54 just opened up...nothing else really except—"

Their eyes snap together at the same moment.

"Son of Sam," they say in sync.

"This is the year of his crime spree," Beckett says.

"Today's the 25th…" Castle's eyes widen, "Which means early tomorrow morning, he's going to shoot a young couple in front of disco in Queens while they're sitting in their car."

"Don't they survive?"

"Yeah, but in a month, he shoots another couple and one of them dies. We can stop him now. We know when and where he's gonna be."

"But if we stop him, then that will definitely change things. That doesn't make sense," she says, frustrated.

"What doesn't make sense is us being in 1977. This isn't some sci-fi movie. There's no script for us to follow."

He moves to take a step out of the elevator cab.

"Hold on—" she puts a hand on his chest, "Aren't you alive right now?"

"Okay, now you _are_ hallucinating."

"No, I mean, you already exist here in this year. You would be…" she does the math in her head, "Right around eight."

"Have you been perusing the personal section of the Richard Castle website again?"

"Castle," she exasperates, not in the mood for jokes. "Isn't it paradoxical for two versions of yourself to exist at one time?

"Say paradoxical again."

"Will you focus?"

"We're not sure if my younger self even exists right now," he says.

"What do you mean?"

"He could've been sent to the future in my place," Castle says dramatically, getting a far-off look in his eye.

She resists the urge to roll her eyes again.

"Castle, I'm serious. Is there a way to check you exist? The younger you, that is."

He looks at her, thinking and then lights up.

"Summer school gets out at three."

"Summer school?"

"I was a rowdy kid," he says, shrugging. "And it was free daycare for my mother."

"I thought you had nannies growing up."

"That was when I was really young. She couldn't afford one when I was in grade school. Everything went towards tuition," he says, "I'd always go to the library next to the school and wait until my mom could pick me up once her rehearsal was over. She didn't want me walking by myself to the theater. Not with all the 'riff-raff' about. Then, she let me hang out backstage until the show was over."

"Was she in a show in the summer of '77?"

"I think she was an extra in _The King and I._"

Beckett looks at the clock above the frosted door of Truman, Taylor & Associates. "It's almost three now. Where did you go to school?"

"Midtown West. It's on 48th in Hell's Kitchen."

"That's almost 100 blocks from here," she says, rooting around her pockets and pulling out her wallet. "We can't use our credit cards, and I have..." She opens the folds, inspecting, and says, "Seventeen bucks and eighty cents. You?"

Castle pats down his clothes and then gives her a guilty look. "I think I left my wallet in the car. But I have very thrifty fingers, I could—"

She gives him an admonishing glare.

"No pick-pocketing."

He frowns.

"What, you gonna arrest me?"

"I still have my badge and gun."

He brightens. "You do?"

"Down boy," she says, putting her wallet away. He grins.

"What you have should be enough, anyway. I think I remember subway tickets only being 30 cents apiece. As long as no one takes a close look at the serial numbers, your money should work," Castle explains.

She nods and looks him over.

"Unbutton your shirt," she says.

"Huh?" he says, dazed.

"We need to blend in. My outfit kind of works. And your sports jacket and slacks don't stick out too much, but you should—" she reaches out and ruffles his hair, making it look more sloppy. "There," she says, "Much better."

"Don't you mean groovy?"

"Don't make me kill you."

* * *

They exit the subway in Midtown an hour later. Castle shudders as they merge into sidewalk traffic just west of Times Square.

"I forgot how dirty everything was," he says, making a face. "And I don't usually mind graffiti, but it's literally everywhere," he observes.

"So are the porno theaters," she says, pointing to the block of marquees promoting 'filthy and promiscuous sex.'

"Now those, I remember."

She bumps her shoulder into his.

"Charming."

* * *

"Did you have a usual spot?" Beckett whispers as they enter the library.

"I always liked this one corner. It was pretty hidden and holy—" he stopped at the sight of a small boy in a private school uniform, his head bent over a book.

"Is that you?" she says.

Slack-jawed, Castle nods.

"Oh my goodness, you were so cute as a kid," she murmurs.

"Just as a kid?"

"Don't make this weirder than it already is, Castle."

"Sorry," he whispers.

"Ok, so younger you is still here. That's good, right?"

"And I'm not disappearing, so definitely good," he says, checking out his hands. "Do I look like I'm warping?"

"Warping?"

"You know, getting all bendy and swirly-looking. Like in Edvard Munch's _Scream_."

"No, Castle, you're not _warping_," she says on a quiet chuckle and takes another peek at Castle's younger half. "Who's that guy?" she asks, noticing someone approaching his table.

"What guy?" Castle asks, peering through the bookshelf. He watches as a man with a military haircut greets his younger self and pass him a book. "Oh my god," Castle says, "This is insane."

"What?"

"That's the guy who changed my life."

* * *

**A/N:** Thank you all for the nice reviews! I came up with this idea a while back, and I'm finally putting it into words. Let me know what you think! I'd love to hear all your theories.


	3. Chapter 3

"What do you mean he changes your life?"

"He just gave me _Casino Royale_. That book's the reason I wanted to become a writer."

"Oh," she says faintly, thinking back to when he turned down the chance to write James Bond for Nikki Heat. Guilt and something indefinable pierce through her, her heart beating fast.

"I've always wanted to thank him," he says, wistful.

"Why don't you?" she asks.

"How?"

"Make up a story, Writer Boy."

She pushes him towards the man who's now retreating behind a bookshelf. Castle gives her a look and she throws him a thumbs up. He takes a breath and walks into the same row as the mystery man. He's spying through the shelves, watching the boy examine his new book. Castle pretends to look for something before coming up next to him.

"That's a big book for a kid," Castle says, good-naturedly.

The stranger tears his gaze from little Castle and looks over at him. He smiles slightly.

"I know he can handle it."

Castle's mouth turns down into a small frown.

"Yeah, you know him?" he asks.

A shadow passes over the man's face.

"What's it to you?"

Castle wavers, unsure of how to answer.

"I'm dating his mother," he decides, cringing inwardly at the lie.

The man considers him as if assessing a threat.

"You're seeing Martha?"

"You know her?" Castle asks, surprised.

"Used to."

"I didn't catch your name," Castle says, holding out a hand.

"Matt Dunning," the man replies with a firm handshake. "And you are?"

"Oh, uh...Derrick Storm," he says quickly.

"That can't be your real name," the man scoffs.

"Stage name. I'm an actor," Castle rambles, "What do you do?"

"Private business consulting."

"Here in the city?" Castle probes.

"Around."

"Martha's never mentioned you before," Castle says, a thought niggling at the back of his head.

"It's been a while."

"How long's a while?"

"Almost 9 years," Matt says, eyeing Castle suspiciously. "And I'd appreciate it if you didn't tell her about this."

Castle holds up his hands. "Not a peep."

He narrows his gaze for a moment and then gives Castle a curt nod.

"I have to go," he says, throwing one last glance towards Castle's younger self. The young boy is flipping through the pages of the book and staring at the text in wonder. A soft look blooms over the man's hardened features.

"I'm sure he's really thankful," Castle says quietly.

"Take care of him, yeah?" Matt says.

"I'll do my best," Castle says, shooting him a curious look.

The man gives him another nod before walking away. Castle watches him disappear into the stacks, the oddest feeling overtaking him. 9 years, huh? He shakes it off and concentrates on locating Beckett.

* * *

He finds her two rows down, perusing the children's section.

"Beckett," he whispers.

She looks up from a copy of the _Phantom Tollbooth_.

"How'd it go?" she asks.

"Are you doing research?" he asks, nodding at the title.

She closes the book. "We did not step into another dimension."

"It certainly feels like it though," Castle says, "That guy said he knew my mom."

"He did?"

"And the last time he saw her was 9 years ago," Castle presses.

Beckett's forehead crinkles in confusion and then her eyes widen.

"You're not thinking…"

"That's the same time she got pregnant with me."

"You really think he could be your dad?"

"Why not? I've never met mine before. I always thought it was because he didn't know I existed or he didn't care. Why else would a complete stranger give me a book? And a pretty mature one, now that I think about it."

"Maybe because he's a creepy pervert who likes giving children adult books," she says.

"Fair point, but there's something about the whole thing that makes me think it's less criminal."

"What makes you say that?"

"He was watching over me like he wanted to protect me, not hurt me."

"Castle, if that's really your dad, why would he try to hide it? If he knew about you, all these years, how come he never reached out?"

"I don't know," he says, doubt clouding his face. "He must have a reason."

"Do you think your mom knew he was in contact with you?"

"No," he says firmly. "She said they had a one-night stand and never learned each other's names."

"Well, it's not _not_ possible," she says after a moment, chewing her lip. She glances away and reshelves the book.

"Wait a minute," Castle says, taken aback, "You don't believe me."

"Why would you say that?"

"You used a double negative."

"That's ridiculous," she says and then hedges, "It's just...there's not much to go on."

"I knew it!"

"Castle, you know what I mean."

The excitement flits from his eyes, and she sighs.

"We should go," she murmurs. Castle nods morosely but then a thought strikes him and understanding dawns on his face.

"He told me he works as a private business consultant in the city," Castle says eagerly.

"So?"

"That's a classic cover."

"Cover for what?"

"Being a spy," he says. "Beckett, what if he's CIA?"

"CIA is a popular theory with you."

"Yes, well, law of averages demands that I'll eventually be right," he says, "But think about it. A spy doesn't have relationships. Well, a good spy, anyway. That way your loved ones can't be used as leverage in case your cover gets blown."

Beckett twists her lip in thought, hesitating.

"_Casino Royale_ is a book about a spy. It's like he's giving me a clue."

"I don't know. It sounds pretty far-fetched," she says.

Castle's shoulders slump and Beckett wants to reach out, smooth away his pain. She hates that she keeps bursting his bubble. But then he straightens up, his face lighting up.

"What about the time I shadowed someone at the CIA?"

"You what?"

"I was trying to get access to do some research for my first Derrick Storm and I kept getting turned down. I wasn't famous then, I mean, why would they let some wannabe writer get an up-close-and-personal look at the life of a female agent unless I had a connection?"

"A female? How many women have you semi-stalked in the name of 'research'?"

"Beckett, I'm serious."

"It could be a coincidence."

"Since when do you believe in coincidences?"

Beckett lets out a frustrated sigh and Castle stuffs his hands into his pockets.

"You know, I told Alexis once that I didn't mind not having a dad growing up because I could imagine him to be anything. An astronaut, a pirate, or a Nobel-prize winner." He looks at her imploringly. "What's so bad about thinking he's a spy?"

Beckett softens, her lips turning up in a sad smile. "It's not," she says, "I just don't want you getting your hopes up. This whole thing is crazy enough."

"Maybe this is why we came here. So you could see your mom and I could see my dad."

She nods, thinking.

"We should head back uptown then," she says. "If you're right, then maybe we'll be able to travel back."

* * *

They walk into the building in Harlem just as it's getting dark. There are loud noises coming from down the hall. There's a pop followed by jubilant cheers.

"Sound like someone's opening champagne," Castle says.

"What do you think's going on?" she asks, coming to a halt in front of the elevator, but glances towards the door of the law firm. As if opened by her gaze, it swings open.

A woman shouts, "Gonna grab some air!" before turning to face them and stopping short in the doorway. She stumbles a little, tripping into the jamb.

Castle reflexively reaches for her but she catches herself on the doorframe and waves him off. "'M good!" she says. She grips it, straightening her stance and stares at them for a moment, blinking slowly. A shiver runs down Beckett's spine when she registers the sight of her mother. But the no-nonsense businesswoman from before has transformed into a flush-faced, carefree-looking girl, her hair loose and ruffled and her blouse untucked.

Johanna's face flashes with recognition. "You!" she hiccups. "And you," she finishes, pointing at them aimlessly.

"Yes, hi," Beckett says to her and then whispers under her breath to Castle, "I have never seen her this drunk before, or like ever."

"Can't believe you came," she says, her words falling out her mouth like a lethargic drip of honey.

"Came?" Beckett prompts.

"To my party!" she shouts out, throwing her hands up a little.

Castle snorts and Beckett steps on his foot. Johanna squints at Beckett as if trying to figure something out.

"We've met before."

"Yes, earlier," Beckett says.

"That's not it...what's your name?"

"Nikki Heat," Beckett blurts out.

A dopey grin splits Castle's face. "And I'm Jameson Rook, but you can call me Jamie," he adds, offering his hand.

"Johanna Hale," she says, shaking it. "C'mon in!" She beckons them inside.

"What's the occasion?" Castle asks.

"Just got engaged," she says, wiggling her fingers and showing the gleaming diamond on her left hand.

"Congratulations!"

"Thank you," she says on another hiccup.

"Where's the lucky guy?" Castle asks Johanna. He leans into Beckett and murmurs, "Does your dad have some of those far-out sideburns?"

"Will you shut it?" Beckett shushes.

"He's right over there," Johanna says, motioning to someone in a crowd of people. "Baby, come meet my new friends!"

"Baby?" Beckett mouths to Castle, slightly horrified. He chokes down a laugh.

A man with a nice, clean haircut and argyle sweater makes his way to them. "Nikki and Jamie," she says, looping her arm around his waist and leaning into his side.

"This is my fiancé, Tom."

* * *

**A/N:** Thank you for the lovely responses. I know Castle is ten in canon when his dad gives him the book, so it's tweaked to fit this timeline. Hope you enjoyed this chapter!


	4. Chapter 4

The color drains from Beckett's face and Castle's mouth falls open.

"Tom, was it?" Beckett asks weakly.

"How fitting," Castle mutters. Beckett knocks her knee into his leg. He clears his throat and pastes a smile on his face as he extends a hand, "Congratulations."

"Thanks, man," Tom says, gripping Castle's hand.

"So how did you two meet?" Beckett asks, her mind reeling.

"Well, it's been a bit of a whirlwind romance, right Joey?" Tom nudges Johanna.

"Yeah, six months," she says, curving her lips wanly.

Beckett arches an eyebrow at Castle as Tom continues.

"It was your birthday, wasn't it? A week or so before Valentine's. And Johanna's such a workaholic, so she wasn't going to celebrate, but my friend Jim...where is that guy anyway?" Tom lifts on his toes, craning his neck to peer over the mass of people.

"He's here somewhere," Johanna says tightly. Beckett and Castle glance at each other. _Jim._

Tom shrugs. "Well, anyway, Jim was trying to get Johanna out of the office because he was throwing her a surprise party. We were chatting on the phone and I was complaining to him that I didn't have plans that night, so he invited me to come. He was the one who introduced us actually."

"How nice," Beckett says with a strained smile.

"Did you know he was leaving the firm, Joey?" Tom asks.

"What?" Johanna says, stiffening.

"Didn't he tell you?"

"Uh, no," she says and drops her arm from his waist, a strange look passing over her face.

"Hey, you okay, baby?" Tom reaches a hand to the small of her back, but she ignores him, eyes hurriedly scanning the rest of the party-goers.

"Sorry, I have to go to the bathroom. I'll be right back," Johanna says, pushing his hand away as her eyes stop short on someone on the other side of the room. Tom watches her disappear into the crowd before turning back to Castle and Beckett with a small sigh.

"So how did you two meet?"

Castle looks nervously at Beckett, but she isn't paying attention, her gaze pinned on the form of her retreating mother.

"Actually, can you excuse us for a moment?" Beckett says, looping her arm around Castle's own and giving him a small pull.

Castle mouths 'Sorry' to a perplexed Tom as she drags him down a hall and into an annex of the office, away from the sounds of raucous laughter and chatter.

"Geez, Beckett. Where's the fire?"

"Where do you think?" she asks, poking him in the chest.

"I'm guessing you didn't know about Tom," he says, rubbing at the spot and pouting slightly.

"I've really missed your sharp deduction skills," she says dryly.

"Yeah, well, I've deduced that the Beckett women really have a thing for Toms."

Beckett doesn't react, her thoughts elsewhere. "My mom's not a Beckett yet," she says off-handedly, pacing. "I know every detail of her life, and I wouldn't forget something like this. Castle, I don't think this is supposed to happen. Something's wrong."

"Are you sure? Maybe she just didn't tell you about him."

She shakes her head, thinking.

"My parents met in law school. My dad was a year ahead of her, but they became good friends. He was the one who helped her get a job at this firm sometime last year. They got married in '78 and had me in '79," she says, ticking off each point on her hand.

"That leaves plenty of time for them to get together. When did they get engaged?"

"This year," she says emphatically.

"Like later this year?"

"She never gave me an exact date," Beckett says, exasperated. She scrunches her brows in confusion. "I just don't understand why they would hide something like this from me."

"Hold on, what if this is _Back to the Future_?" Castle says excitedly.

"I thought you said we weren't in some sci-fi movie."

"Okay, but just think. Marty McFly was the one who got his parents together. Because he was supposed to travel back in time."

"So now you're saying we have to play matchmaker or I'm the one that's going to start disappearing? How the hell are we supposed to do that? She's _engaged_ to someone else."

"Well—"

The sound of arguing voices from down the hall interrupts him. Beckett peeks around the corner towards the source and spots her mother walking towards them with an unmistakably younger Jim Beckett.

She pulls herself back in and quickly looks around, her eyes landing on a door and tugs Castle towards it.

"What are you doing?"

"Shh, my parents are coming," she hisses, pushing him into what looks like a supply closet and tucking herself in with him. It's a tight space. Her chest presses against his, their faces hovering inches from each other.

"Your parents," he says dumbly.

She shushes him and peers through the crack in the door where she can catch a glimpse of them as they enter the annex.

"Why are you avoiding me?" Johanna asks.

Jim lets out a heavy sigh.

"Jo."

"Why didn't you tell me you were transferring?"

"I didn't want to ruin your moment."

Johanna crosses her arms, unconvinced.

"When did you plan on telling me?" she probes.

He's silent, caught.

"Were you just going to leave without saying goodbye?" she asks, incredulous.

"It would've been easier for the both of us," Jim says finally, not able to look at her.

"What the hell, Jim? What happened to you? I thought…" she trails off. She brings a hand to his jaw, her thumb tenderly brushing his cheekbone, her eyes searching his.

He catches her wrist. "Don't," he says, his voice trembling. "You're drunk."

She retracts her hand, stung.

"Jim, please."

He gives her a long look.

"I can't watch you be with him."

Beckett glances up at Caste, a sliver of light from the door gap slashing over his face, and finds him watching her. A charged silence falls between them. She looks away, suddenly very aware of his chest pressing against hers.

"So that's it?" Johanna asks.

"What do you want me to say?" He asks earnestly.

Johanna shakes her head at him.

"Never mind," she says sharply.

Beckett bites the inside of her cheek to stop a pained gasp from escaping. It hurts to watch her parents like this.

"Hey, Joey, there you are!" a voice calls out. Johanna and Jim stiffen. She quickly wipes at the tears escaping down her cheeks and musters a small grin as Tom enters the room and slides an arm around her waist. "Why're you guys hiding out over here?" Tom asks.

"Jim just wanted to tell me about his transfer and it was getting too loud," Johanna supplies.

"You finally tell her, Jimbo? I mean, it's about time. When I suggested you apply for that opening at Ruben and Stein, I thought—"

"—You what?" Johanna interrupts, shaking Tom's arm off of her. "_You_ gave him the idea to leave?"

"Joey, c'mon, what's the big deal?" he asks, reaching out to console her. She holds up a hand to stop him.

"Don't call me that," she says, "You know I hate it."

She exits the annex without looking back at the two men.

"What did you say to her?" Tom asks Jim, his face darkening.

"Nothing," Jim says quickly.

"She's not yours," Tom bites out.

"She's not something you can have, Tom. She's her own person," Jim shoots back.

Tom narrows his eyes.

"Just stay away from her, got it?"

Jim holds up his hands.

"Loud and clear."

Tom lowers his hackles and rushes after Johanna. Jim rubs at his face and kicks a wall before leaving the annex and heading back down the hall into the throng.

Beckett flinches from the wall-kick and Castle brings a hand to cup her elbow.

"Hey, you okay?" Castle asks softly. He wipes a thumb at the tears rolling down her cheeks. She didn't even realize she was crying. Castle palms her jaw and she closes her eyes, her breath shuddering.

"Kate," he murmurs, and her eyes flutter open to find his pupils wide and blow-open. Her skin tingles.

The world falls away, his soft whisper and warm touch like Pandora, opening her tightly-sealed box of feelings. His nose bumps against hers and she doesn't move, unable to breathe.

"Rick," she says, tilting her head back, her lips parting.

And then his mouth is on hers, overriding her senses, and he's kissing her like he'll never get the chance again. She melts under him, her legs weakening at the knees.

When he breaks away, a soft smile blooms on her face before a thought crashes down on her, cold and shattering.

"Gina," she chokes out, freezing in his embrace.

"Gone," he husks, gentling her.

"When?"

He hesitates.

"Rick," she urges.

"Yesterday," he says.

"And then you came back," she says slowly, the cogs of her mind whirring. _But that would mean_...she doesn't finish the thought, her eyes snapping up to his. The back of her neck starts to sweat, the air suddenly hot and cloying. It's too much. Her parents. Him. Everything. _He came back for you_ a voice whispers.

"I...," she says, her heart leaping into her throat. "I can't."

She pushes the door open roughly, stumbling out of the small space, her only thought escape.

He calls out her name, but it's like a distant echo, the sound of blood thumping in her ears drowning out her surroundings.

* * *

She stops at the bottom of the steps outside the building and bends over, trying to get some air into her lungs. She hears the slam of the front door and Castle's footsteps. He comes up behind her on the sidewalk.

"Beckett—"

She straightens, and turns to him, eyes blazing.

"Castle, please. Whatever you have to say, just don't," she says.

His face hardens into stone.

"So that's it? You're just going to shut me out?"

"Did you ever think maybe this isn't about you? I just had to watch my parents break each others' hearts because somehow, by some freak accident, we've ended up in the past and I...I just can't think straight. It all still feels like a bad dream."

"Is that all this is to you? A bad dream?"

"What are you talking about?"

"So you're just going to forget it happened?" he asks, challenging.

Beckett shakes her head, running both her hands through her hair as a derisive laugh falls from her lips.

"I can't believe you're actually doing this right now."

Anger flares across his face. "When's a good time for you? You want me to wait a couple more years and deny what I'm feeling? Christ, Beckett. Just tell me what the hell you want!" he shouts.

Her eyes are like glass, hard and shiny.

"You're an asshole," she says.

"No, I'm a fool," he spits venomously and she flinches. He softens, tempering his fury, apology written in his eyes. He looks at her morosely, "Don't you get it? It was never about the books, Kate."

Her face clouds over, growing stormy. She takes a step closer to him and squares her shoulders, her interrogation mode kicking in, a lioness facing its prey. "But sleeping with other women was just what...your fun way of telling me you liked me?"

"Jesus, Kate. We aren't even together and you're already punishing me." He scrubs his jaw, a great tiredness settling into his features. "But if you really need to know, Ellie Monroe meant nothing to me and Gina was...going back to her was a mistake, okay?"

Beckett looks down at the pavement, embarrassment coloring her cheeks. He's right. She has no grounds to hold those relationships against him.

"And what about you parading Demming around the precinct?" he argues.

She scoffs. "I didn't parade him around!"

"Oh, yeah, your candle-light dinners in the conference room were super-secret," he jeers.

"Says the guy whom I found sharing risotto with my high school best friend!" she counters in disbelief.

"My god, you're infuriating," he says. The air between crackles and snaps like a live wire. It happens fast, the way they step towards each other, drawn together like two magnets, their lips crashing together in the same moment. She rakes her hands through his hair, hard and scratching. He grips her almost bruisingly. It isn't a fiery tenderness but a bitter resentment, a shared hurt of jealously and misunderstanding that fuels their rough and biting kisses. Beckett is the one who pulls away first. It's drugging, the way he makes her feel, and she doesn't want to lose herself in the sensation. She's mad at him after all.

"Stop doing that," she says, breathless.

"If you really want me to," he says, his eyes a swirling blue.

"Castle."

"It won't happen again," he says, holding up three fingers, "Scout's honor."

She gives him a look. "You were never a scout."

He grins lopsidedly and reaches for her, his smooth hands bookending her cheeks. "Oh, yeah. Good point," he says, capturing her mouth again, soft and slow. She sighs, losing her fight and melting into him. They eventually break apart and she ducks her head under his chin, overwhelmed by a wave of inexplicable shyness. She feels utterly exposed and vulnerable. They don't talk like that. So open and raw, and they certainly don't kiss like that, either. Though, that new development, she finds she doesn't mind so much. Castle's arms wind around her shoulder, holding her close. They sway back and forth in comfortable silence, adapting to the new but oddly familiar feeling of being wrapped up in each other.

"I was going to say yes, you know?" she says after a while, deciding something.

"Hmm?" he says noncommittally.

She lifts her head, looking straight at him, wanting him to know the truth.

"I broke up with Demming because I wanted to go the stupid Hamptons with you," she reveals, quietly.

Her words hang in the air, and Castle stares at her, stupefied.

"You—"

Whatever he was going to say next gets cut-off when a dark figure sprints from around the corner and collides with them. Castle loses all equilibrium and she topples on top of him. He hits the ground at a bad angle, hard, his head bouncing off the pavement. The figure doesn't stop moving, somehow scrambling off their pile of tangled limbs without much problem and continues to make a mad dash down the block, disappearing into the night.

Beckett quickly climbs off of Castle as he tries to sit-up with a groan.

"Easy, easy," she soothes as she helps prop him up against an iron-wrought fence surrounding a bed of flowers.

"That guy came out of nowhere," he says, holding a hand up to the back of his head.

She sucks in a breath when she notices a small gash on it.

"Castle, don't touch it. You're hurt," she says, "Give me your jacket."

She pushes the collar of it over his shoulders and gently shimmies it off him before balling it up and holding it to the source of his bleeding. Castle winces slightly, his nails digging into the palm of his hand.

Something glints out of the corner of her eye and Beckett notices an object lying by his foot.

"What's that?" she asks, jerking her chin at the shiny item.

Castle's brows pinch together. "That guy must've dropped it."

"Can you hold this?" she asks and he automatically brings his own hand up to add pressure to his wound. She releases her grasp from the jacket and bends over to pick up what she can now see is a necklace.

"Are those diamonds?" Castle asks as she raises it up to the streetlight.

The sound of sirens wail in the distance and Beckett looks at him.

"You don't think…" she says, but then, a portly security guard comes from around the corner, huffing and puffing. The guard immediately notices Beckett with the necklace and pulls out his gun.

"Hold it, right there."

Beckett's eyes widen.

"No, it's not what you think," she says.

Castle struggles to stand.

"Don't move, mister!" the guard yells, training his gun on Castle.

"She didn't do it. This is all a misunderstanding, Officer," he says, managing to get upright.

"Both of you, hands in the air, now!"

Castle and Beckett stare in horror at each other as they both slowly raise their hands. Castle's jacket slithers to the ground as police cars careen down the street and screech to a stop in front of the pair, officers pouring out of doors, their weapons drawn.

As if in slow motion, Castle and Beckett are both snapped into a pair of cuffs and pushed into the back of a cruiser as a young officer reads them their rights, the last sentence ringing loudly in their ears.

"You're under arrest for grand larceny."


	5. Chapter 5

"They took my badge and gun," she hisses, pacing back and forth in her holding cell. Castle looks on from his neighboring one, absentmindedly touching the bandage at the back of his head.

"Which they thought were costume pieces," he says.

"They could shoot themselves!"

"You left the safety on, and if they thought our phones were some sort of 'funky' cassette players, I don't think they're gonna figure out how to shoot your gun."

"I hate this," she says, crossing her arms over her chest.

"At least they didn't book us under our real names."

"That doesn't make it better," she mutters.

"I still can't believe you got them to think your I.D. was fake."

"It wasn't that hard, Castle. It had a future date on it."

"Don't you mean, Rook?"

She glares at him and then shakes the bars of her cell door.

"Hey, you can't treat us like this!" she shouts.

"Now you know how all your perps feel."

"Castle," she seethes. "I want my phone call."

"Who're you gonna call?" Castle asks.

"My lawyer."

"Your lawyer…" he says slowly, and then it clicks, "Your mom?"

She shrugs. "Do you know the number of another criminal lawyer from this year?"

"Touche."

Beckett rattles the door again, and a uniform enters the holding cell.

"Shut it, will you?"

"I want to call my lawyer," she says coolly.

"Goody for you," he says.

"I know my rights, Officer…" Beckett trails off when she reads his name tag, suddenly feeling faint. "Raglan," she finishes, swallowing nervously. She takes another look at him, fully registering the younger face of the officer who writes off her mother's murder as random gang violence. Castle perks up.

"Can't help you, sweetheart," he says.

Beckett sags for a moment, but then straightens, a thought sliding into place.

"What if I can help you make detective?"

He scoffs.

"I know you've applied three times and you've been rejected each time," she recites.

"What the hell…" he assess her again. "Do I know you?"

"We haven't met yet," she says tightly.

His face fills with question. "What're you going on about?"

"Look, I have information about a crime," she says urgently.

"Got some more light-fingered friends you want to snitch on?" Raglan snickers.

She shares a look with Castle and he nods, understanding what she's asking. She chews her lip, unsure. Raglan rolls his eyes, losing interest, and starts to leave. Shit. It's their only advantage.

"I know where the Son of Sam is going to attack next," she says.

Raglan stops in his tracks and then turns to her with a laugh.

"You think I'm gonna believe some bitch like you?"

"Listen up, you piece of shit," Castle says, standing up and grabbing the bars of his cell. "If I get out of here, I'm gonna—"

"Rick," Beckett says sharply, "I got this." Castle backs down but glares daggers at Raglan.

"Got a ball-buster on your hands," Raglan chuckles.

"John, I suggest you shut up. Or I'll tell your colleagues how many times you failed your entrance exam to the academy."

"You can't possibly—"

"Twice."

His face goes white.

"Do you want my tip now?" she asks.

Raglan mutters under his breath.

"I didn't catch that," Beckett deadpans.

Raglan narrows his eyes at her and sneers, "Yes, bitch."

Castle rattles his bars. "Hey, watch it!"

Raglan smirks. Beckett maintains her stance.

"If my tip pans out, then my friend and I get a phone call, got it?"

"Sure thing, sweetheart," Raglan says sardonically.

"I can tell another officer," she says, "If that's what you prefer."

Raglan considers her for another moment, sobering.

"Fine."

She crooks a finger at him, motioning him closer. He obliges, leaning in.

"In about three hours, he's going to shoot a young couple sitting in their car outside the Elephas in Bayside," she says.

"Sal Lupo and Judy Placido," Castle adds.

Raglan considers the both of them, hooking his thumbs in his belt.

"I don't have jurisdiction in Queens."

"That's not my problem, is it?" Beckett says.

He sneers at her as he exits the holding cell area.

Beckett collapses onto the steel bench behind her, the fight draining out of her.

"That was incredible," Castle says.

"You know who that was?" she asks.

"I remember from your mother's casefile," he says quietly.

She runs her hands through her hair.

"I can't believe I did that. Leveraging history for our release. It doesn't feel right."

"It's going to save lives, and this couple was going to survive, anyway," Castle says.

"But not the next one, or the next victims after that," she protests.

He sighs, sitting on his own bench, and finds her hand through the bars. She lets him weave his fingers through hers, welcoming his touch.

"It's going to be okay," he says.

"How can you be so sure?"

His thumb starts running soothingly over one of her knuckles.

"Because I know you. You'd never do something without thinking about the next steps."

She wants to believe him...to have the same unflappable faith, but she's hesitant to give in.

"I don't think I've been able to think straight since this afternoon," she says with a wry laugh. He chuckles, his lips quirking in an ironic smile.

"Still like a bad dream?"

She shakes her head and flashes him a soft look. "Not all bad."

He grins at that.

"I should've called you," he says after a moment. "You've been mad at me, and I should've called."

"Hey," she says, squeezing his hand. "You didn't know."

His forehead falls against the bars separating them. She reaches up her free hand to skim his head bandage.

"Are you okay? I've been meaning to ask."

"It wasn't a deep cut. Just needed a patch job," he says, catching her wrist against his cheek, yawning.

"You should sleep," she murmurs.

He hums noncommittally as he moves to lay down on his bench, propping on his side and keeping their hands linked, his head pillowing on the arm reaching through the bars.

"The cot's more comfortable you know," she says, nodding at the one bolted to the ground in the far corner of his cell.

"I could say the same," he challenges. She sighs, a battle lost, and lays down on her own bench, facing him.

"This isn't how I imagined our first night together," he says quietly.

"What, no handcuffs?" she teases, but her throat goes dry when his eyes darken at the suggestion.

"I'm holding you to that," he rasps hoarsely.

She shivers slightly, her fingers twitching in his grasp.

"How'd you imagine it would be?" she asks gently.

"Well, first, I was going to take you out properly, you know? To a candlelit dinner with great wine and a tiramisu that would knock your socks off."

She stays silent, getting lost in his story as he describes what flowers he planned on bringing her when he picked her up (calla lilies, her favorite) and the little hole-in-the-wall he was going to whisk her away to.

"And then I'd kiss you goodnight at your door," he continues, circling his thumb against hers, "Soft and slow."

She closes her eyes, swallowing hard, the imagery and his ministrations sparking arousal in her belly.

"Then, I'd invite you in for nightcap," she adds with a whisper. His thumb pauses against hers, and she opens her eyes. "And in the morning, you'd make me pancakes," she says with a small smile.

"My way of saying _thank you so much for last night_," he says, smirking. She chuckles, her nose wrinkling in mock disgust.

"Now it's pancakes _and_ bacon."

"Anything for you," he says lightly, his eyes twinkling with mischief, but she knows he really means it. It scares her, briefly, how comfortable they are with each other already, but now that they're admitting things, she can admit at least to herself that it's always like this between them...and the easy touching and the physical intimacy is simply the inevitable conclusion they've always been hurtling towards.

"It's a date," she replies.

"In this century?" he asks with a lift of his brow.

She resists the roll of her eyes but can't help smiling.

"Any century with you, Castle."

* * *

"Hey, lovebirds! Get up!" Raglan kicks a cell doors, rattling it loudly. Castle and Beckett jerk awake, their loosely bonded hands, slack with sleep, break apart. "How did you know?" he asks sternly.

Beckett quickly stands up from her bench and straightens out her wrinkled outfit and rumpled hair.

"Did you catch him?" she asks breathlessly.

Raglan falls silent.

"You didn't follow up, did you?" she says, taking a step closer to the door and wrapping a hand around one of the bars. "But you listened to the scanner and heard about it, is that it?"

"Doesn't matter," he says, "How did you know it was gonna happen?"

Beckett takes a moment and looks at Castle, nodding at him. They had come up with a story before falling asleep the night before, just in case.

"We're private investigators. The family of Valentina Suriani wanted more movement on the case. She and her boyfriend were shot while they were sitting in her car back in April. We've been tracking his pattern."

Raglan considers the two of them for a moment.

"Where's his next attack then?"

Beckett and Castle exchange another glance. Raglan notices and it suddenly dawns on him.

"You know, don't you?" he says.

"I want our phone call," Beckett says tightly.

Raglan narrows his gaze at her.

"I can give you five minutes."

Relief courses through her, but Beckett maintains a straight face.

"That's all I need."

* * *

"Yes, hi, operator. Truman, Taylor, and Associates, please?"

"Hold one moment," a woman's voice says pleasantly.

Beckett taps her foot impatiently.

"Truman and Taylor, how may I help you?"

"Hello, can I speak with Johanna Beck—um, Hale?"

"I'm sorry, she's not in the office today. Is there someone else I can connect you with?"

Beckett tilts her head back, closing her eyes in quiet frustration.

"Ma'am?"

Beckett clears her throat and grips the phone. "Sorry, yes. Is Jim Beckett available?"

"What is this regarding?"

"I'm calling from the lock-up at the 28th precinct. I'm looking for legal representation," she says, trying to keep her composure. She hadn't eaten in the last 24 hours and she felt hollowed out and exhausted.

"Let me transfer you."

"Thank you," she says, her body caving into the wall next to her a little.

The line rings for a moment and Beckett's heart suddenly beats out of her chest.

"Jim Beckett speaking."

Beckett straightens at the sound of his voice.

"Uh, hi," she says nervously.

"How can I help you?" he asks politely. A rush of calm settles over her. This was her dad and he was going to help.

"My name is Nikki Heat," she says, "And we haven't met, but your colleague, Johanna recommended you."

"Johanna, really?"

"Yes, and I'm sorry, I'm short on time, but a friend and I were arrested last night for a robbery we didn't commit and I was hoping you could help us out."

"Oh, well, I don't usually deal with criminal."

Beckett curses under her breath quietly.

"Please, I don't know anyone else," she says, "And Johanna said you were the best."

She hears a heavy sigh on the other end.

"Ok, tell me again what happened. And where are you calling from?"

Beckett pumps her fist in silent victory.

Finally.

* * *

"Where's Raglan?" she asks when another uniform locks her back in her cell.

"Got called away to a traffic jam or something," Castle says with a shrug of his shoulders. "But how'd it go? Is she coming?"

"She wasn't there," she says.

"You're kidding."

"No, but I spoke with my dad," she says.

"Your dad?"

"Yeah, he said he'd take a look at our case and ask around."

"So he's not coming down here, then," Castle says, disappointment painting his face.

"He just wants to get all the facts first."

"That's something, I guess. I hope he knows that our future in the past hinges all on him."

"Please stop talking. You're giving me a migraine."

* * *

It feels like an eternity before Raglan visits them again. He swivels his gaze between them before reaching for his belt and the key to their cells. He taps it in his palm as if taunting them.

"You still have that tip?"

"You gonna let us out?" Castle shoots back.

"Depends on what you got," Raglan hedges.

Beckett scoffs. "If you were really going to let us out, you would've done it already. You don't have the power to do anything."

Raglan's face darkens and he takes a step closer.

"You—"

But a voice interjects, "That's right. He doesn't."

All three of them look towards a man in a suit entering the holding area, flanked by more uniforms. He motions at the officers to open the cell doors. They quickly scramble to jam the keys into the lock as Beckett's eyes widen and Castle's mouth falls slightly open.

"Jim?"


	6. Chapter 6

**A/N:** Thank you (and Vielen Dank) for all the nice reviews!

* * *

"Jim?" Castle asks, recognizing the young man from the night before.

"Nice to meet you…?" Jim prompts, reaching out his hand as Castle steps out of his cell.

Castle gulps, his face whitening a bit, as he shakes it, saying "Jamie," while Beckett stifles a delirious laugh. This is not at all how she pictured Castle meeting her dad for the first time.

"And you must be, Nikki," Jim adds, turning towards her with an outstretched hand before suddenly dropping it, his face blooming with shock. Beckett clears her throat, and deftly moves her extended hand to tuck a strand of hair behind her ear.

"I'm sorry," he says, recovering. "You remind me of someone I know...our mutual friend, Johanna, actually."

"Just one of those uncanny things," Beckett says smoothly, throwing him a tight-lipped smile.

Jim nods, his forehead pinching in confusion, but accepts it.

Castle pipes up, intervening, "Were you able to post bail?"

"No, uh, I got them to drop the charges," Jim replies.

"What?" Raglan interjects, his expression souring.

Ignoring Raglan, Jim motions for the two of them to follow him as he guides them out of lockup. "It was a high-end jewelry store, so they had one of those fancy new security cameras with a video cassette recorder."

"So they know it wasn't us?" Beckett asks, the coil of tension sitting on her chest, unfurling.

Jim nods. "And a witness from an apartment across the street saw you get knocked over by the real robber," he says to Castle. "It confirms your story."

"Wrong place, wrong time," Castle says.

"Did they catch the actual guy?" Beckett asks.

Jim pauses in front of a reception window, signing a clipboard. He passes it to a woman inside and asks for their personal effects before replying, "They've put out an APB, which is an—"

"All points bulletin," Beckett answers as the woman returns with a bag of their things. "So he's still out there?" she asks and Jim's face flickers with surprise as she clips on her badge and slides her gun into a shoulder holster.

"I have a friend who manufactures top-of-the-line pieces," she says, noticing his stare. Castle refrains from laughing, his lips pressed firmly together.

"Are you a cop?" he asks, incredulous.

"Kind of," she says, glancing at Castle.

"We're private investigators," Castle fills in. Jim gives him another once over, askance. Beckett quickly slips on her watch and clasps on her necklace, tucking the ring beneath her blouse before Jim trains his curious gaze back to her.

"And you're from out of town," Jim states.

"You could say that," Castle replies, picking up a brown paper bag. He pulls out his bloody jacket and grimaces. Jim's face pales.

"We don't know how to thank you," Beckett adds before Jim can interrogate them further.

"How much do we owe you?" Castle asks, dropping the bag in a nearby trash can and wiping his hands together.

Jim regards them for a moment before waving them off. "Any friend of Johanna's is a friend of mine."

"At least let us treat you to a late breakfast," Beckett says, picking up her wallet.

"You really don't have to do that," Jim says.

"It's no problem, really," Beckett presses. She shares a pointed look with Castle. He catches her eye and nods in understanding. They need to figure out what went wrong between her parents.

"And we know just the place," Castle says, smiling.

* * *

"So how do you guys know Johanna?" Jim asks, sliding into a booth at Remy's. The place is exactly the same, though the red vinyl seats are void of their usual cracks and creases.

"We met her...not too long ago, and she advised us on a case," Beckett says, sitting down on the opposite side of the booth, and Castle settling in next to her.

"What kind of case?" Jim queries.

"It's still on-going, so we can't say much," Castle says, easily quashing the subject. "Tell us about yourself. Any summer plans?"

"My parents keep begging me to join them at their cabin upstate for a weekend, but I'm swamped with work," Jim says, sighing.

"We heard about your new job," Beckett says, "Congrats."

Jim eyes them. "Thank you."

"When do you leave?" Castle probes.

"This is my last week. I'm out on Friday."

"Just two more days, then?" Beckett says.

"That's right," Jim replies, picking up a menu and scanning it.

A waitress approaches their table then, asking if they're ready to order. She's young with perky blonde hair and her name tag reads Patty.

"I can't stay long, so I'll just take a coffee," Jim says. Patty scribbles on her pad and turns to Castle and Beckett expectantly.

"I'll have the American breakfast with hash browns. And an order of pancakes," Castle recites immediately.

Beckett opens her mouth, but Castle interrupts, "And a lox bagel."

"Hungry?" Jim asks, amused.

As if on cue, Castle's stomach growls. Beckett bites down a grin as Jim chuckles and Castle smiles weakly.

"Jailhouse diet, you know?" Castle says. Patty's pen pauses and glances at him, eyes widening.

"Can I get the Omelette special with a side of whole-wheat toast?" Beckett asks, redirecting Patty's attention. "And another two coffees."

"Anything else?" she asks.

They all look at Castle and he hunches his shoulder guiltily. "A biscuit, please."

"Sure thing," Patty says, before walking off and clipping their order onto the kitchen ticket rack.

"You guys come here often?" Jim asks, nodding at their untouched menus.

"When we're in town," Beckett says diplomatically.

"But you don't know anyone?" Jim questions, arching a patented Beckett brow.

"Just the people who hire us," Castle says. "And they're usually looking for a cheating spouse, so we don't really keep in touch afterwards."

"Right," Jim says, assessing the both of them. "So how long have you been together?"

Castle coughs as a faint blush overtakes Beckett's face.

"I'm sorry, I didn't mean to pry," Jim says, noticing their discomfort. "Lawyer's habit."

"No, uh, it's okay, really. It's just new, that's all," Beckett stammers. "And—"

She stops abruptly when Patty returns with their coffee. Castle takes each cup from the teetering platter and passes them around the table. Beckett gives him a couple sugar packets while he takes the silver container of cream and pours some into her mug. He offers it to Jim but the other Beckett declines, watching their practiced dance, bemused.

"Your food will be ready shortly," Patty announces, flashing Jim a flirtatious wink before leaving them again.

"Seems like somebody likes you," Beckett says coyly, taking a sip from her coffee.

"It's the suit," Jim says, smiling good-naturedly.

"You seeing anyone?" Castle asks.

Jim's smile falls but he manages to school his expression as he replies, "Not at the moment."

Beckett sits up, sensing an opening. "It's too bad we didn't see you last night."

"Last night?" Jim echoes.

"At Johanna's engagement party? We stopped by," Beckett explains.

"I didn't realize she invited you," Jim says, his brows knitting together.

"It was a last minute thing," Castle provides quickly.

"Do you know Tom well?" Beckett questions innocently as she stirs sugar into her cup.

"I was the one who introduced him to her," Jim answers, barely hiding his bitterness.

"You don't approve?" Castle probes, tapping his stir stick on the side of his mug.

"I didn't mean…" Jim sighs, rubbing his forehead. "I'm happy for them. Really."

Beckett glances at Castle. This is it—their in. Jim's chink in the armor.

"It can be hard seeing someone you care about with someone else," Beckett says quietly.

Surprise wells over Jim's face and then, resignation.

"Am I that obvious?" he asks on a groan.

"When you're in our line of work, you learn your way around matters of the heart pretty quickly," Castle supplies. "So we understand…" Beckett puts a hand on his thigh to quell his editorializing.

"P.I.'s habit," she says wryly. Jim musters a half-smile. "Was there ever a chance between the two of you?" she asks gently.

Jim circles the rim of his coffee with an errant finger, debating something within himself. He gauges the two of them before saying, "You promise this doesn't get back to her?"

"Scout's honor," Castle says. Beckett knocks an admonishing knee against his and he manages to keep a straight face.

"Not a word," Beckett adds.

Jim looks down at his coffee. "Ever since we met, about three years ago, there's always been something, but it was slow-building, you know?"

It's Castle's turn to knock his knee against hers. Beckett swats at him underneath the table.

They both nod.

"And we've had our...moments," he continues, "But the timing was always off, and then, I found myself watching her fall for someone else. I didn't imagine it would ever become so messy," he says, burying his face in his hands.

"It's never too late to say something," Beckett suggests lightly.

A derisive laugh falls from Jim's lips. "I think it's a little late."

"Be—Nikki has a point," Castle says. "I've been through two divorces, so I've had to learn it the hard way."

Jim chortles at that. He raises his cup for a sip and peers at them over the rim. "You really think I should tell her how I feel?"

Before either of them can respond, Patty arrives with their food order. She sets Castle's various dishes down in front of him, while Beckett reaches over Castle's feast to accept her own plate, the cuff of her sleeve moving back to reveal her watch. Patty places a breakfast muffin in front of Jim. "On the house," she says, smiling pleasantly. He ignores her, staring at Beckett's wrist.

"Is that an Omega Speedmaster?" Jim asks suddenly. Patty leaves, frowning. Castle takes a bite of his scrambled eggs, hiding a look of amusement.

"Huh?" Beckett says.

He nods at her watch.

"Uh, yeah. My dad gave it to me," she says without thinking.

"I have one just like it. It's in the shop right now for an engraving."

"Oh, yeah?" Beckett says with a nervous smile, "What's it going to say?"

"Do you know the history of the watch?" he asks. Beckett shakes her head, chewing on her omelette.

"It's the same kind they used during the first American spacewalk. And Neil Armstrong wore the brand when he first walked on the moon in the Apollo 11 mission. That's why they call it a Moonwatch," he explains, an excitement lighting in his eye. "When I was a kid, I wanted to be an astronaut. So I bought myself one when I graduated law school as a gift to myself," he says.

"You've never told me that before," Beckett says, caught up in his story. "I mean, I never knew that," she adds when he flashes her an odd look.

He continues, "To answer your question, I want it to say _One giant leap_ in honor of my new transfer."

"Very poetic," Castle compliments, mumbling around a mouthful of biscuit.

"What happened to becoming an astronaut?" Beckett asks.

"Law runs in my family," he says with a shrug of his shoulders. "Speaking of, what time is it?"

Beckett looks at her watch, replying, "Almost noon."

"Shoot, I really should be getting back," he says, setting down his cup. "Thanks, again for the coffee...and the advice," he says with a melancholy smile.

"The heart wants what the heart wants," Castle says, grasping Jim's hand in goodbye.

He pauses before turning to leave, tapping the table and chewing at his lip. "Do you guys have a card?"

"Uh," Beckett gets out, feigning a search through her wallet. "It looks like we're fresh out," she says with an apologetic look.

"But maybe we can stop by later at the offices and drop it off," Castle suggests and Jim brightens.

"Hold on, why don't you two come to my going away party on Friday?"

"Yeah?" Beckett asks.

"Absolutely."

"Count us in," Castle says, grinning.

"Rad," Jim replies, tucking his hands into his pockets, a smile blooming at his lips. "See you then."

Castle and Beckett wave as he makes his way out of the diner. Both of them deflate once he steps outside.

Beckett groans, "That was terrible."

"What are you talking about? My mother would've been proud of the performance we just gave," Castle says, cutting up his pancakes. "We were like Fosse and Verdon!"

Beckett massages her fingers into her forehead, her elbows coming to rest on the Formica table-top. "Hardly," she gripes. "And Fosse was a director not an actor."

"Semantics," Castle says, stuffing his face with hash browns. "They were both creative visionaries."

"Slow down," she says, when he starts coughing. She pats a hand between his shoulder blades as his body shakes. He pounds his chest with a fist, and the obstruction in his throat dislodges.

"Thanks," he rasps, swallowing a gulp of coffee.

"I just don't know if it was enough," she says.

"Well, we have 'til Friday to come up with a plan," Castle says as Patty comes by to drop off their bill. She eyes Jim's empty seat with disappointment.

"He's a heart-breaker, your father," Castle observes as the waitress moves to the next table.

"Hilarious," Beckett deadpans, spearing another chunk of her omelette.

Castle picks up their receipt and passes it over to Beckett. "For you, moneybags."

"Good thing you ordered everything on the menu," she says, her gaze flicking to the amount at the bottom. It's not too damaging, considering it doesn't include the cost of inflation.

"Hilarious," Castle tosses back. "How much do we have left?" he asks, nodding at her wallet a she pulls out enough to cover the meal and a tip for their lovelorn waitress.

"Around ten," she says, sighing.

"So maybe enough for a night at a motel."

"As nice as that sounds," she starts, "I have a better idea," she finishes, tapping the face of her watch.

"What are you thinking?"

"I think it's time to pay my grandparents a visit."

"What?"


	7. Chapter 7

**A/N:** I've been tinkering with this chapter for a while and thought I would just bite the bullet and post it. Apologies for the long wait—I have the next few chapters outlined but wanted to see if people we're still interested. Thanks to those who reviewed and reached out!

* * *

_June 26, 1977_

"Your grandparents?"

"My dad said they were up at the cabin for the summer," she says.

"So they're not home," Castle says, catching on.

"Exactly," she says with a grin.

* * *

"You're sure their address is the same as you remember?" Castle asks as they walk north on third avenue thirty minutes later.

"It's the place my dad grew up in, and I used to visit them once a month when I was a kid." Beckett pauses in front of a row of brownstones, her eyes scanning the numbers before landing on a unit numbered 1012. "My Aunt Theresa got the place when they passed away, and my dad got the cabin."

She rushes up the steps, picking up a flower pot from one of the window planters. Castle follows her and watches as she lifts the packed soil. A triumphant smile breaks across her face as she digs out a spare key from the bottom and hands Castle the pot as she slides the key into the lock, pushing the door open. He returns the flower to the planter as Beckett eases inside and throws a cursory glance around the front hall. It's dark but she can make out dust sheets covering furniture in the next room.

"Looks like we're in the clear," she announces, stepping inside and flicking on the lights. "I'm gonna check the bedroom." She heads towards the stairs.

Castle nods, closing the door and letting out a low whistle as light illuminates the stately space. "What do your grandparents do?" Castle asks, picking up an expensive-looking figurine from a mahogany side-table, but Beckett's already disappeared. He sets it down, stepping into the foyer, which opens into a dining room and flows into a study. He balks when he spots a deer's head mounted above the palatial-like fireplace in the next room.

"It's empty. And their suitcases are gone from the closet," Beckett reports, coming down the stairs. When she hears no reply, she asks, "Castle?"

"When were you going to tell me you're rich?" he questions, joining her in the foyer.

"How do you mean?"

Castle glances meaningfully at the grand chandelier hanging above their heads.

"It never came up," she says, shrugging.

"It explains why you had such a nice apartment on a cop's salary," he says, examining an oil painting with a gilded frame, "I just can't believe you've been hiding this from me all this time."

"Some people don't feel the need to flaunt their wealth," she quips.

"When's the last time you saw me flaunt my wealth?" Castle protests, looking mildly offended.

"Beckett, come to the Hamptons with me. I have a heated pool, Beckett, " she says, feigning his voice.

"You _know_ that was me just trying to see you in a suit," he rebutts, slightly miffed.

Beckett rolls her eyes and suppresses a grin.

"I think I'm going to shower now," she says, heading back upstairs.

"You sure you don't want me to join you?" he calls after her.

He can hear the smile in her voice when she throws over her shoulder, "Not this time." He shivers and grasps the stair bannister tightly as if to placate the arousal licking in his belly. She was going to be the death of him.

* * *

A little while later, a freshly-showered Beckett knocks on the guest room door on the first floor, some of her grandfather's clothes and a first-aid kit in hand.

Castle swings the door open, a towel slung across his hips and a spare toothbrush dangling from his mouth. Droplets of water trail from his neck to his bare chest. Beckett's eyes follow their path down his torso, entranced. She'd always suspected he had a brawny physique underneath all the layers of sports coats and fitted shirts, but didn't expect him to look so...strapping.

"Like what you see?" Castle asks, popping out his toothbrush and grinning widely.

Beckett blinks, recovering, and then narrows her eyes at him. "I'd rather see you dressed," she says, pushing the clothes against his chest with a smirk. "Do you need a new bandage?" she asks, gesturing with the first-aid kit.

"All healed up," he says. "Unless you want to kiss and make it better?"

She hates that his comment sends a tingle down her spine. "Too bad your ego is still intact," she parries, turning on her heel and heading down the hall before she does something stupid.

Once he's dressed, Castle finds her in the study.

"Hey."

She looks up from a family photo album.

"Hi."

He leans on the back of the couch to peer over her shoulder.

"Are those your parents?" he asks, nodding at a photo of a woman in graduation robes with Jim. "They look happy."

"Yeah," she says with a sigh. She slips the photo from its sheath and folds it, tucking it into her pants pocket. "Want to see something cool?"

"Do you even have to ask?"

She presses a button underneath the fireplace mantel, causing two hidden panels in the adjacent wall to pop open and reveal a floor-to-ceiling stereo system.

Castle's eyes bug out of his head. "No freaking way." He runs his fingers across the rows of vinyl records. "Your grandparents have taste."

"They're the ones who introduced me to Coltrane."

"You like jazz?"

She doesn't answer, instead selecting a record and placing it in the player installed within the wall unit. A shy smile buds on her face as Coltrane croons out of the speakers. He watches her close her eyes and hum along to the slow beat.

"May I have this dance?" he asks.

She bites her lip before giving in and reaching for his outstretched hand. He gently tugs her into the cove of his body, her head easily coming to rest on his shoulder. Like two puzzle pieces slotting together.

They sway.

"You smell good," he says.

"So do you."

They fall silent again.

"Castle?"

"Hmm?"

"What happens after this?"

"What do you mean?"

She lifts her head up and finds his eyes. "Let's say we get my parents back together...what then? We don't even know if that's what were supposed to do here, and—"

"Hey," he interrupts softly. He squeezes her hand, and splays his other hand on the small of her back. "We're going to figure it out."

"What if something happens and you don't come back to Alexis?" His heart pinches at the thought but he brushes it off.

"Saving your mom doesn't mean sacrificing my daughter."

"You don't know that."

"Alexis is born before everything with your mom happens."

"And if we decided to change everything, to tell my mom the truth...would we meet?"

She's hesitant, not meeting his eye, like she revealed too much.

"There are a lot of different ways to meet someone," he says quietly.

"So what? The universe will bring us together?" she responds, disbelief clouding her features.

"It brought us back in time."

Her brows crinkle together, considering. "How can you be so sure?" she asks, a fragile expression on her face. Doubting. He gently lifts her chin with his right forefinger, wanting to tell her how much he cared, that he would do anything for her.

"Because I am," he says, instead.

She's silent, her eyes burning like golden embers, swallowing him whole with fear and insecurity. It hits him, how scared she is, how she's barely holding it together. And she's letting him see it. He just wants her to feel safe, but he doesn't have the answer to her question. All he knows is how he feels about her, so he leans in, closing the few inches between them, and captures her lips with his, showing her what he can't say. "I've been waiting to do that all day," he whispers, his forehead bumping hers.

She closes her eyes as he kisses her again, soft and slow, like he's handling something precious and her heart stutters. "Don't stop," she exhales as he starts trailing open-mouthed kisses along her jawline, making her feel dizzy. "Castle," she gasps, tightening her hands around his neck and guiding him back to her mouth, her lips hungry and searching. She doesn't want to think anymore. Her fingers reach for the zipper on his pants and he stills against her.

"Kate, I don't have a—"

She silences him with a kiss. "I'm on the pill."

"But when was the last time you took it?"

She groans, remembering her birth control in her purse at the precinct...33 years in the future.

"Since when did you become the responsible one?" she asks.

"I'm sure your grandparents have something," he says.

"You're kidding, right?"

"Bad idea?"

"If I have to explain why I don't want to use my grandparent's sex stuff, then—"

"Nope, got it. You're right. I'll go to the store and get something. I saw a bodega on the corner."

"I'm coming with you."

* * *

Beckett sets down a can of whipped cream on the checkout counter.

"Is that all you're getting?" Castle asks.

"Do you think I should get two?"

"Are we having a lot of ice cream?"

"That's not really the dessert I had in mind," she says, her gaze flicking to his groin.

Castle stares at her, and then quickly turns to the cashier.

"Can I get a pack of those?" he asks, pointing to a box of condoms.

Beckett snorts out a laugh as the cashier rings up their items, looking bored.

Castle hands over their amount from Beckett's wallet, saying, "Keep the change," as he swipes the box from the counter. She grabs her whipped cream as Castle reaches for her hand, hauling her out of the store eagerly.

"Easy, tiger," she says, laughing.

* * *

They have trouble getting the door open, with Castle crowding her back and planting kisses down her nape. When she gets the key to turn and they make it inside, she drops her can of whipped cream to the floor, her arms winding around Castle's neck as he pins her up against the nearest wall.

He helps untuck her top, bringing it over her head.

"You're not wearing a bra," he says stupidly.

"And you're still wearing too many clothes," she parries.

He grins crookedly.

"I can fix that."

They end up in the guest room where he takes time peeling off the rest of her clothes. It's slow and torturous and she feels like she's going to explode, years of tightly coiled tension threatening to burst. He kisses her, sweet and rich and deep. When he finally touches her, she arches into him, shattering, completely undone.

Their first time is achingly tender. He pays devotion to her like it might be their last time, like he expects her to push him away, and her heart twists. She spends the next round proving how much she wants him, how much she wants to stay. It's never been like this with anyone else. So all consuming and intoxicating. She doesn't want to stop.

He spoons her after, his breath fanning the back of her neck and his arm possessively slinging over her waist. Her hip dips into the mattress as she turns toward him. She's struck by how familiar it feels with him as she traces her fingers over his five o'clock shadow. He hums at her touch, half-asleep. She doesn't want to leave the bed, but, "I'm starving," she whispers.

"Time is it?" he mumbles, rubbing his eyes with the palm of his hands.

"Sunset," she answers, glancing at the orange-pink sky through the window. "I'm going to find something to eat." She slips out of bed, picking up her discarded pants from the ground and tugging them on. She covers her chest with her arms as she makes the trip to the front hall, where she finds her shirt and long-forgotten can of whipped cream.

Throwing on her blouse, she pads into the kitchen and opens the fridge, finding it empty. "Of course," she grumbles, placing the whipped cream inside.

Castle sidles in a moment later with his clothes on, stretching out his arms and yawning. "Find anything?" He comes up behind her, planting a kiss on her shoulder.

"They cleared everything out before their trip," she huffs out, her head falling backward onto his chest.

"Hey, what's this?" Castle asks, grabbing a small, wooden chest from the top of the fridge. It has walnut-colored slats in a patchwork pattern on each side.

"Oh, wow," Beckett says, lighting up, "That's my grandfather's puzzle box."

"I love these things!" Castle exclaims. "I can't remember the name, but there's this great place downtown that sells stuff like this."

"Drake's Magic Shop," Beckett says, closing the fridge door.

"Yeah," Castle says, surprised, "That's the one. How—?"

"My grandfather used to take me there practically every Sunday afternoon," she says, "You remind me a bit of him, actually."

"Never pegged you for a magic fan. Know any good tricks?"

"I do this one thing," she says, "With ice cubes."

Castle's face goes slack and Beckett's lips curl into a Cheshire smile as she takes the box from his grasp, running her fingertips over the slats.

"He used to put money in here for me, I wonder…" she says, sliding pieces in and out until she hears the sound of gears clicking and a secret compartment pops out. She plucks a tightly-folded fifty dollar bill from the miniature drawer and looks up at Castle, grinning.

"Pizza, anyone?"

* * *

After inhaling a vegetable combo delivered from Joe's, Beckett unearths a deck of cards and Castle insists on playing strip poker. They're perched on the bed and down to the last hand.

"If I win, you take off your pants," says Beckett, peeking at her cards.

"And if I win, you agree to go steady with me," he counters. Her eyes fly to his, surprised.

"Are you asking if I want to be your girlfriend?" she questions, holding back a smile. "We're in the 70s, not the 1950s, you know."

"Is that a yes?" he asks, his face a careful mask, but she catches the flicker of apprehension in his gaze. She knows suddenly that he's prepared for her to say no and her chest tightens. It's barely been 24 hours since their kiss in an office supply closet. But this—them—it's something she's wanted for so long; she didn't realize it until he was walking away with his arm around his ex-wife. She doesn't want one foot out the door anymore.

She throws her cards over her shoulder, crawling toward him.

"Yeah, Castle, I'll go steady with you."


End file.
